


Make Me

by vericus



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Humour, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-14
Updated: 2012-06-14
Packaged: 2017-11-07 17:44:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vericus/pseuds/vericus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Make me' is not a challenge one should ever give to an officer.  Especially not if one is an officer oneself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by the lines: "Scream." "Make me."

Carly and Spike likened it to a human child first discovering the word 'why'. Ratchet likened it to a glitched out processor. The rest of the Ark just found it extremely entertaining.

"Jazz, where is the report on your mission yesterday?" Prowl's innocent question was the start of it, the day after Jazz went on a 'mission' to a human elementary school to talk to the children. He'd had to hunt Jazz down in the twins' room, where the saboteur was busy playing a racing game against Sunstreaker.

"On my desk," Jazz replied easily.

"Could you perhaps give it to me at some point today?" Prowl asked, sounding irritated now that he knew it was completed.

"Make me." Sunstreaker gave Jazz an incredulous look before returning his attention to the large TV screen, but Sideswipe had no problems staring in shock at the saboteur. Prowl, for his part, seemed to be at a loss as to how to respond to that, and after a moment, withdrew silently, only to go dig through the mess of data pads on Jazz's desk to find the report himself.

Jazz's apparent rebellion against Prowl was the twins' favourite story that night, but nobody quite believed them. It wasn't until two days later, when Jazz was listening to music on monitor duty, that other mechs got any proof.

"Jazz, some of us are trying to work. You can do monitor duty _without_ listening to your music," Prowl stated, looking cranky as he stalked into the control room.

"Make me," Jazz replied airily, and Brawn just stared as Prowl froze. The minibot then watched with horrified curiosity as Prowl went through an array of expressions, from shocked, to angry, to confused, before growling and turning around, going straight back to his office without even trying to turn off Jazz's music.

After that, it became at least a daily occurrence, and the inhabitants of the Ark could only watch with growing amusement - and slight awe - as Jazz continued to rebel against every single direct order Prowl gave him that didn't directly involve doing his duties. Every single time, Prowl would pause, looking confused, and then slink away. The twins wanted to do some experiments to see if Prowl would do the same thing if they started telling him to 'make them' follow a direct order, but Ratchet firmly squashed the idea. Jazz didn't even hold back when Optimus was present, brushing off Prowl's request in a staff meeting that he try to curb Sideswipe's pranks a bit more with a grinning 'make me'. No one what quite sure what the Autobot leader thought of Jazz's new favourite phrase, but Ironhide made the observation that Optimus seemed to be in one of the best moods he'd had since coming to Earth.

Half the interest with Jazz's rebellion, of course, was curiosity about what Prowl's inevitable response was going to be. Because as sure as Starscream would try to overthrow Megatron, Prowl's processor would inevitably adapt and come up with a response, and Jazz would get what he had been asking for. What, exactly, Jazz was asking for, nobody could quite agree on, but they all agreed that they wanted to be in the security office watching when he got it.

As it happened, some of them got a much more personal view of the event.

"Jazz, could you come to my office for a few moments?" Prowl's bland question brought instant quiet to the rec room as mechs turned with smirks to wait for the inevitable response. They weren't disappointed.

"Make me." The saboteur didn't even look away from the TV, currently showing some human movie. The others, expecting Prowl to frown and walk away, had already half returned their attention to whatever they'd been doing when they realized it was time for Prowl's inevitable response. Most were already grinning as Prowl stepped around the chair Jazz had been sitting in, blocking the saboteur's view. Before Jazz could protest, however, he found himself slung over Prowl's shoulder and being carried out of the rec room, followed by the laughter of everyone inside.

Jazz's "Hey, no fair!" could be heard clearly in the rec room as Prowl made off with him, and only made the others laugh harder.


	2. Chapter 2

Jazz let out a squawk as he was dumped in the visitors chair of Prowl's office, but composed himself quickly. He'd been expecting something like this to happen, after all. He was just startled at the timing. Still, Jazz was nothing if not adaptable and prepared, and he settled into an easy sprawl in his chair as Prowl leaned back against the edge of his desk, glaring at the saboteur.

"Is there a reason you have seen fit recently to undermine my authority at every opportunity?" he demanded.

"I would hardly call it underminin'. I don't see anyone else respectin' ya less," Jazz replied pleasantly.

"Fine. Publicly humiliate me, then," Prowl corrected.

"Pretty sure they were all laughin' at me just now in the rec room, not you," Jazz replied. Prowl gave a small growl, and Jazz quite firmly told his systems to calm down.

"Why are you so argumentative all of the sudden?!" the tactician demanded, leaning forward to add force to his glare.

"Just showin' I care," Jazz replied with an easy smirk. Prowl twitched.

"You -" Prowl started, then snapped his mouth shut and covered his face with one of his hands. When he removed the hand to look at Jazz again a few moments later, his face was impassive again. "Your refusals to acknowledge my authority need to cease immediately if we are to continue to work together in a productive manner."

"Make me," Jazz replied glibly, and then ducked out of the way, rolling out of his chair and coming up in a combat stance on the other side of it as Prowl took a swipe at his head. The tactician glared at him, hands twitching in a way that clearly bespoke the violence he wished to inflict upon the saboteur. "Come on, you can do better'n that!"

"I will not let you goad me into a brawl in my _office,"_ Prowl said, though Jazz could see the tactician physically restraining himself. He was torn between wishing Prowl wouldn't restrain himself and wishing he'd just keep on doing it, because slag if a pissed-off-but-restrained Prowl wasn't just as hot as a fighting Prowl.

"We could go out into the hall if you'd like," Jazz offered cheerfully.

"No, no brawl," Prowl snapped. "Anywhere."

"OK, how about another way to get rid of that tension you're feelin'?" Jazz suggested, and Prowl gave him a confused look.

"What?"

"You're all tense. Have been for months now. Can't be good for you physically or mentally. Gotta let it out somehow. I was thinkin' a brawl, but since you're so against the idea..." Jazz shrugged, then adopted a saucy pose. "We could find _other ways_ to loosen ya up." The saboteur waggled his optic ridges to add to the pose, and while Prowl didn't technically gape, he did stare in shock.

"Are you _propositioning_ me?" he finally asked incredulously. Jazz pretended to think for a moment.

"Why yes, I do believe I am," he said finally, then wiggled his hips slightly. "So, how 'bout it?" Prowl's mouth opened and closed a couple of times without him saying anything, and for a moment, Jazz worried that he'd frozen the tactician's logic centers. Then Prowl did something Jazz hadn't expected - he began _giggling._ It was quiet at first, but eventually got louder, until Prowl promptly sat down and continued his gigglefit on the floor, covering his face with both his hands.

"Prowl? Y'alright there?" Jazz asked, half concerned and half amused as he moved over to crouch beside the giggling mech. One of Prowl's hand came away from his face to wave in a vague manner that might have been meant to be reassuring, but Jazz couldn't really tell. He reached out tentatively to poke the tactician in the shoulder, and like he'd hit a switch, as soon as he did so, Prowl stopped giggling and looked up to give him a serious look.

"Do you have _any_ idea, Jazz, how long I've been hoping you'd try such a thing?" Prowl said in a serious tone of voice.

"Really?" Jazz asked in surprise after a pause. In response, Prowl grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him over for an intense, electric kiss, which left Jazz grinning goofily.

"Really," Prowl replied solemnly. "I just wasn't prepared for you to be so utterly _blatant_ about it." Jazz's response was to move in for another kiss, but the tactician held him back. "Not in my office."

"Why not?" Jazz asked with a pout.

"It's my _office,"_ Prowl replied patiently.

"And? The door has a lock."

"But no soundproofing," Prowl stated firmly.

"I'm sure we won't need it," Jazz said with a grin, and Prowl gave Jazz a weary look.

"You do recall who has had quarters directly next to you for the past several hundred thousand vorns?" he said. "You can't even _recharge_ quietly."

"I can if I try," Jazz said challengingly.

"I doubt it."

"Well, why don't we try and find out?" Jazz said. "If anyone outside your office hears a single noise from me, I will uncomplainin'ly do monitor duty without my music, hand in all my reports promptly, an' even stop Sideswipe from pulling any pranks, for the next week." Prowl looked almost considering for a moment, and then Jazz continued, "But if they hear somethin' from you, or don't hear a thing, I get the next week off and your sworn promise to go with me to a concert at the end of it." Prowl frowned, obviously weighing the options, and Jazz let him think.

"Fine," Prowl said, and Jazz expressed his glee at the decision by hopping into Prowl's lap and kissing him soundly. "Jazz, I still...mmph...have to lock the door." Jazz muttered unhappily, but got off of Prowl's lap long enough for the tactician to go lock the door. As soon as he turned around, however, Prowl found himself with an armful of Jazz again, and it was only thanks to a very good sense of balance that he didn't stagger back into the door.

"Exactly how long have _you_ wanted to proposition me?" Prowl managed to ask when he pulled away from Jazz, looking amused.

"Let's just say awhile an' leave it at that," Jazz said with a grin, then indulged in some of his long-held curiosity and let one of his hands wander back to the joints for one of Prowl's doorwings. Prowl's systems revved satisfactorily as Jazz's fingers played with the exposed wires and cables there, and the tactician gave Jazz a heated look before pulling him in for a deep kiss, his own hands reaching around to grab Jazz by the aft and hoist him off the floor, prompting the saboteur to obligingly wrap his legs around Prowl's hips. Jazz was aware of Prowl walking somewhere, but couldn't be bothered to move his attention from the kiss and playing with Prowl's doorwing joints until he felt something solid underneath his aft. A curious look down reveal that he was now sitting on the edge of Prowl's desk, and he snickered slightly.

"I'm never going to be able to look at this desk the same way again," the saboteur said as Prowl nipped at the cables in his neck.

"I haven't been able to look at it the same way since the first time you sprawled yourself across it trying to get me to go to a concert with you instead of doing reports," Prowl murmured into his neck, and Jazz gave the tactician an amused looked.

"My my, has the stoic Prowl been having some fantasies?" he asked.

"No need for fantasies when you all but put on a show right in front of me every time I refuse to go," Prowl replied, and slid his hands up under Jazz's front bumper. The saboteur didn't have the will to formulate a defense on his own behalf, instead turning his attention to exploring more parts of Prowl, hunting out the tactician's sensitive spots. He had a few more guesses he wanted to try out.

One of those guesses was Prowl's chevron, which seemed to him to be the perfect spot for extra tactile sensors, like his own horns were. A curious brush of fingers over the red metal brought a shudder from Prowl, and Jazz grinned in satisfaction before giving the chevron a more teasing caress. Prowl's answering growl, right by his audios, sent shivers through Jazz, and he pulled back to capture Prowl's mouth in a sensuous kiss as he let his hands explore Prowl's shoulders and upper chassis.

Prowl was busy with his own exploring, running along the edges of armor plating and eventually working his way towards Jazz's interface port. The saboteur shivered as Prowl caressed the port, eventually ghosting over it before his hand disappeared entirely. That was all the warning Jazz got before Prowl attached his interface cable to the port, and then data was streaming across the link, pinging off Jazz's sensory programs and heightening their sensitivity.

Light caresses sent shocks of pleasure through Jazz, and it was all he could do to stop himself from overloading on the spot, and focus on sending an answering data stream back at Prowl. Able to focus on Prowl again as the tactician's hands faltered under the answering data, Jazz attacked his sensitive spots. Prowl dropped his head to Jazz's shoulder, and the saboteur could feel shudders pass through the tactician as his intakes furiously cycled air.

A sudden external _buzz_ startled Jazz from his ministrations, and Prowl growled in irritation as Jazz froze, looking around curiously.

"It's just the door chime, Jazz," Prowl murmured into Jazz's neck, nibbling at one of the cables and sending a burst of data over the interface cable at the same time. Jazz leaned into the nibbles with a low moan before he realized what Prowl had said.

"So, someone's outside right now, wantin' t'talk to ya?" Jazz asked, a small grin forming in answer to the mischievous idea growing in his CPU as he recalled the two ways in which he could win their little 'bet'. Prowl must have caught some of that mischievousness over the link, as he looked up to give Jazz a suspicious look. Then either Jazz's idea leaked through, or Prowl realized it on his own, because he adopted a slightly horrified look.

 _"No,_ Jazz -" he said, but Jazz didn't listen, sending a high-intensity data burst over the interface cable and reached around Prowl to plunge one of his hands into the cables and struts of one of the tactician's doorwings. Prowl's knees buckled, and Jazz supported his weight against himself and Prowl's desk. Nibbling along the edge of Prowl's helm, working his way up to the chevron, Jazz didn't relent in the stream of data, and Prowl's systems revved furiously, bring Jazz's own systems back up, close to overload once again.

"Scream for me," Jazz murmured.

"No," Prowl panted.

"Scream."

"Make me." The unexpected reversal of roles caused Jazz to falter slightly in amusement, and that was all Prowl needed to turn the tables. Suddenly pressed backwards, Jazz found himself on his back on Prowl's desk, the tactician straddling his hips and kissing him well and thoroughly. The tactician's hands seemed to be everywhere at once, until Jazz realized Prowl was sending sensor ghosts over the interface cable, but even after he realized it, Jazz didn't really care, because it felt so slagging good. He could feel his systems spiraling upwards, warnings flashing in his CPU about imminent overload, and then he tumbled over, and he knew he brought Prowl with him. Someone cried out, in the haze of overload, but Jazz couldn't be bothered to figure out who at that moment, as his overload washed over him, with Prowl's echoing in the background.

"You owe me a week of no pranks, no music while on duty, and on time reports," Prowl murmured as Jazz regained coherency.

"Slag."


End file.
